


#83

by foramomentonly



Series: Meet Ugly Drabbles and Fics [10]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Blow Jobs, College AU, Dirty Talk, Echo - Freeform, M/M, Malex, Masturbation, Smut, frat bros - Freeform, meet ugly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:27:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25412368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foramomentonly/pseuds/foramomentonly
Summary: Prompt: you might be a legacy for this sorority/fraternity/etc. but like hell am I letting you [get the biggest room, run for presidency, etc.]
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Series: Meet Ugly Drabbles and Fics [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1773934
Comments: 57
Kudos: 170





	#83

**Author's Note:**

> I gotta send this one out into the ether. I spent way too much time agonizing over it. I hope you all enjoy.

Michael Guerin is sick of Alex Manes. 

Alex Manes, who is the only other contender for president of their fraternity. Alex Manes, whose legacy in the frat runs so deep his great-great grandfather or something was the chapter’s Founding Father. Alex Manes, whose tight, black jeans hug his perfect ass, whose many piercings and small, understated tattoos are all carefully cataloged in the deep, filthy recesses of Michael’s brain, and whose dark eyes and smudged eyeliner make Michael metaphorically incapable of staying off his knees.

Alex Manes who is also his brother’s roommate and currently ransacking their small, fairly neat space while Michael lounges on Alex’s bed and tries not to stare at the slope of Alex’s back as Alex bends over his desk in the far corner of the room. 

“Where the fuck is my music theory book?” he growls, and Michael’s toes curl in his sneakers. “I’ve got class in, like, ten minutes.”

Alex looks over his shoulder and glares at Michael.

“And get off my bed in your shoes, Guerin,” he hisses. “Some of us actually wash our sheets.”

“Someone getting off in your bed?” Michael drawls in response, moving only to fluff Alex’s pillow and cross his arms behind his head. “First time for everything, I guess.”

Alex rolls his eyes and Max tsks his disapproval, shuffling his own books around on his desk in search of Alex’s.

“Is this it?” Max calls, producing a short, thick text from a tall stack and waving it at Alex. “It was mixed up with my loans from the library.”

Alex breathes a sigh of relief and grabs the book, shoving it into his bag and raising an eyebrow at Max.

“Which wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t constantly reorganizing your stuff based on how it made Liz feel this week or whatever,” Alex complains, but there’s no heat to his words. 

They might be merciless rivals at the moment, but Michael and Alex will always have at least one thing in common: they both find Max’s obsession with Alex’s friend Liz Ortecho endearing and endlessly entertaining.

“Later, man,” Alex calls, breezing toward the door. As he passes Michael, still sprawled across Alex’s bed, unbothered, he adds, “Guerin,” in a voice so cold it would frighten his own damn mother. The door slams behind him and Michael chuckles.

“Could you not antagonize my roommate?” Max asks, twisting in his chair to face Michael.

“He’s not your roommate, he’s my competition,” Michael replies, picking up a random magazine from Alex’s nightstand and flipping it open.

“Whatever,” Max says with a shrug, picking up a hardcover journal and his wallet and heading for the door. “I’m just saying: Not all attention is good attention.”

Michael scoffs.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Max pauses, hand on the doorknob, and shoots him a knowing, pitying smile. 

“I think you know, dude,” he says lightly. “I’m gonna go write in the coffee shop. See ya.”

“Have fun stalking Liz!” Michael calls out casually to Max’s retreating form.

He does know. Obviously. But he hadn’t realized he was that transparent. Thing is, before the whole nomination process started, Michael and Alex were kind of working towards...something. He thought. They bickered and teased and danced around each other, making small spaces more compact by skirting boundaries and inviting unnecessary closeness. But after the chapter meeting where they became official nominees for president, Alex had knocked into Michael’s shoulder on his way out the door; no heat, no lingering touch, just pure aggression. 

“Runnin’ to tell Daddy, Manes?” Michael had drawled, disoriented from the sudden shift in dynamic, but responding in kind.

Alex had only stared at him, deep brown eyes cold and assessing. 

It was a low blow. Michael knows that Alex needs this presidency more than he wants it, his family legacy a heavy weight bearing down on him. He’s seen the way Alex’s body goes rigid and his eyes hollow during the few calls he has with his dad. Max met Jesse Manes once, at a legacy mixer for the fraternity; after that, when Michael tried to make a joke about Alex’s old man, Max just shook his head, expression grim, and muttered, “Guy’s a piece of work.” 

But Michael needs this, too; needs it on his resume for future scholarships, internships, and connections. He doesn’t have a family name—or even a family—to get him into grad school and open doors for him. And Alex knows him well enough to know that, too. So while Michael hates the simmering, hostile back-and-forth he and Alex have fallen into—especially because the antagonism is only fueling his desire; turns out Alex is hot as fuck when he’s pissed off and in full ice king mode—Michael lets it fester. Alex fucking Manes with his privilege and his shitty father and his tight ass will not stop Michael from getting what he needs. And he needs to win.

Michael is still in Max and Alex’s room, and still on Alex’s bed, when Alex returns from class.

Honey, you’re home!” Michael exclaims, voice bright and sing-song. 

Alex groans, drops his bag on the floor and strides into the room, ripping his magazine off of Michael’s chest where it had dropped open while he dozed and tossing it back on the nightstand.

“Seriously, Guerin,” Alex says through clenched teeth, “Get. Off. My. Bed.”

“I think you’re gonna have to make me, Manes,” Michael faux-whispers, grinning cockily and crossing one leg over the other.

Alex looms over him and wraps a hand around Michael’s ankle like he’s going to haul him off using brute force, but Alex doesn’t move. His eyes are molten, hard and blazing, and his chest rises and falls in quick, uneven measures. As Michael stares up at him, all of his intentions to tease and bait Alex slip away, the animosity and resentment simmering in his gut scorched by an overwhelming want he finds mirrored in Alex’s nearly black eyes. Michael watches Alex lick his lips and so, so slowly he uncrosses his legs, careful not to disturb Alex’s long fingers where they’re still wrapped around his ankle, propping himself up on his elbows.

“Make me, Alex,” he murmurs low.

Alex’s grip on his ankle tightens and almost simultaneously Alex guides Michael’s legs open and drops down on his knees between them as Michael shifts sideways to face Alex, sprawling vertical across the center of the bed. Never breaking eye contact, Alex grips the backs of Michael’s thighs and hauls him closer to the edge of the mattress, leaning up and forward, his dark gaze flitting between Michael’s zipper and his honey brown eyes.

“Not gonna open itself,” Michael breathes, and Alex’s eyes flash. He works open Michael’s jeans and jerks them down his thighs, taking his boxers with them. Michael’s cock bobs inches from Alex’s face, already half hard, and he can feel Alex’s hot breath on the head as Alex hovers above him. Alex holds himself suspended above Michael’s groin, fingers curling around the muscles of his of thighs. And Michael knows, he fucking knows Alex is teasing him, making him work for it, ask for it, in punishment for Michael’s goading. He swallows down a whine.

“Pretty sure you know what to do, baby,” Michael growls, gripping the back of Alex’s neck gently. He doesn’t guide or push, merely threads his fingers through the short hair at the nape of Alex’s neck and lightly squeezes. 

Alex groans and all at once he takes Michael into his mouth, swallowing Michael’s cock like he’s been starving for it. Maybe he has, Michael thinks wildly, desperately, before Alex lays his tongue flat against his shaft and drags his hot, wet mouth up the length of Michael’s cock slow and deliberate, the tip of his tongue flicking against Michael’s frenulum when Alex finally reaches the head, sucking and teasing and chasing every single thought Michael’s ever had directly out of his consciousness. He works Michael over with purpose and confidence; soft tongue wrapped around Michael’s shaft, mouth wet, but never sloppy, fingers occasionally slipping down to cup Michael’s balls or lower to press slow circles against his perineum.

“Fuck, yeah, you know what to do,” Michael groans, watching Alex’s head bob and admiring the view of Alex’s full lips wrapped snug around him. “Finally found a use for that fucking mouth, huh?”

Alex hums a sort of muffled mhmm around Michael’s cock that has Michael wrapping a leg around Alex’s back to pull him closer, sneaker digging into his shoulder blade. Alex grunts in response and hefts Michael’s leg over his shoulder instead, sinking back down onto him until Michael’s cock is inching into the back of his throat and Alex’s nose is pressed against Michael’s groin. Michael moans, dropping his head back and grinding his hips up in small circles, careful not to choke Alex.. It’s hot and tight and it feels so fucking good, and then Alex swallows around him and it feels even better. His hands are in Alex’s hair, soft as down between his fingers, and he scratches lightly at Alex’s scalp as he continues to pump his hips. Alex pulls off when he needs to, striping Michael’s cock in a tight grip as he catches his breath. Embarrassingly, Michael realizes he’s right there, teetering on the edge of orgasm after less than ten minutes of what’s easily the best blow job of his life. 

“Close,” he whines, and finds he has enough brain cells left to be surprised when Alex takes the head of Michael’s cock back into his mouth while working the shaft with his hand, lips in an exaggerated pout as he sucks.

“You wanna taste?” Michael groans, and Alex sinks down another inch in response. “God, keep going, baby, gonna give it to you.”

He forces his eyes to stay open as he comes hard down Alex’s throat, and at the sight of Alex’s long lashes fluttering prettily against his cheeks while Michael’s wet dick twitches between his lips, Michael lets out a soft moan and spurts weakly one more time into Alex’s mouth. Alex swallows it all easily. And before Michael can even think to tell Alex to get his sweet ass on the bed, Alex is wriggling out of his jeans and briefs and climbing up to straddle Michael on his knees, pulling his shirt over his head on an afterthought. He takes himself in hand and begins to stroke fast and efficient, staring down at Michael with eyes swallowed by pupil.

“Keep talking,” he instructs, and Michael grins.

Michael knows he has a tendency to run his mouth during sex. And that he can get, well, dirty with it. Most of the people he sleeps with will tell him to shut the fuck up if they’re not into it—or shut him up themselves, which he always enjoys—but Alex is the first to ever encourage it, to request it. And Michael can tell by the heat in Alex’s eyes when Michael eggs him on and the delicious retaliation Alex enacts when Michael’s words get downright filthy that Alex gets off on it just as much as Michael does.

"You like my dirty mouth?" he asks, running his palms up Alex's thighs where he hovers over Michael's lap and staring openly at Alex’s thick, weeping cock. “Makes you so hard for me, huh?”

Alex's only answer is a broken whimper as he squeezes himself tight on his next upstroke, fixing Michael with dark, hazy eyes and biting his swollen lower lip. Alex is presenting his body like an offering, front and center, for Michael to gorge himself on, and Michael greedily runs his hands and eyes over every exposed inch. He trails his fingers lightly down Alex's chest, tracing the soft, pink blush staining his skin from his high cheekbones all the way down his chest, littered with small, black ink. Michael takes his time when he reaches Alex's nipples, pressing with his thumbs and rubbing gently until Alex moans, then pinching a single hard nub, rolling it between his fingers. He grips Alex's bicep and feels the muscle work as Alex jerks himself, commits the rhythm to memory for use in the future he desperately hopes they have. And he finally gets his hands on Alex's ass, cupping the smooth skin and tight muscle of his cheeks with both hands.

"Fuck, this ass," he groans. "Stare at it all fucking day. You wear those tight ass jeans and bend over every five minutes and-"

He catches Alex's eye and there's a glint of mischief under the thick veil of arousal clouding his gaze, his lips pulling into a smirk.

"You did it on purpose," Michael growls, squeezing and kneading the flesh of Alex's ass, his index finger sneaking between Alex's cheeks to press at his dry hole. Alex's mouth drops open and his hand on himself stutters, but he picks back up again quickly with a desperate whine. 

"Take off your shirt," Alex pants. He's clearly losing it, seconds away from coming all over Michael's chest; his cock is leaking steadily and his hand is flying over himself, but he still manages to make his words an order, not a request.

Michael pulls his shirt off and slides farther down as much as he can between Alex's legs, positioning his bare chest directly in front of where Alex is beginning to bow, back curled and his free hand falling to Michael's shoulder to support himself. So close to Alex's cock, thick and pink and twitching inside his fist as he strokes himself relentlessly, Michael's mouth waters, eager to get his lips around the swollen tip. But Alex has been crystal clear with his intentions, and Michael is so far from uninterested.

"Come on me, Alex," he encourages, hands everywhere on Alex's body. "Come on, baby. Gonna get me all messy?"

Alex lets out a series of stuttering groans as he comes, shooting his release across Michael's chest. Michael soothes him with gentle palms running up and down his arms as Alex rocks forward in his lap, body trembling with aftershocks. And just when Michael thinks they're done, that Alex is going to roll off of him and kick Michael out on his ass, Alex pushes his fingers through the mess he's made of Michael's chest, spreading his cum across Michael's stomach, around a nipple. He brings two fingers to Michael's lips and, when Michael drops his mouth open eagerly, feeds them to him, encouraging Michael to suck and lick Alex's cum off his fingers until they're clean. Finally, completing his circle of totally unpredictable behavior, Alex leans in close and uses his grip on Michael's chin to guide him in a slow, gentle kiss. 

"Damn, Manes," Michael breathes when they pull apart, "You're kinky as fuck."

Alex laughs, deep and raspy, and with a lightness Michael has never heard from him before.

“Better get used to it,” he replies, “because I dropped out of the election.”

Michael pushes himself up on his elbows to stare hard into Alex’s eyes. In response, Alex sits back on his heels, but he meets Michael’s gaze steadily.

“Why?” Michael demands. “I don’t need any favors, Manes. I can win this all by myself.”

“I don’t give a fuck about being president,” Alex says easily. “And I don’t give a fuck about making my dad happy. Not anymore.” He pauses and drops his eyes before refocusing on Michael with a vulnerability Michael’s never seen in him, not even when they were doing their ridiculous soft bro mating dance. “I-I care about you. I wanna be with you.”

Michael smiles, leaning in to pull Alex closer with gentle hands cupping the base of his skull, fingering tangling in his tousled hair.

“Then I only have one condition,” he whispers, tone exaggeratedly seductive.

Alex grins.

“And what’s that?”

“You have to call me ‘Mr. President’ when we fuck.”

Alex closes the distance between them, hot breath on Michael’s lips as he breathes, “No fucking way,” and bites down on Michael’s lower lip before he has a chance to complain, kissing him until Michael forgets he even wanted to.


End file.
